


“i’ll do it for you.”

by clickingkeyboards



Series: one hundred ways to say 'i love you' [48]
Category: Murder Most Unladylike Series - Robin Stevens
Genre: Adults, Alternate Universe - Parents, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood, Romantic Fluff, Yuletide, original child character - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:53:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21906859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clickingkeyboards/pseuds/clickingkeyboards
Summary: As an adult, Daisy celebrates Christmas with Hazel, Alexander, George, and a child.Canon EraWritten for the forty-eighth prompt in the '100 ways to say "I love you"' prompt list by p0ck3tf0x on Tumblr.
Relationships: Alexander Arcady/Hazel Wong, Daisy Wells & Hazel Wong
Series: one hundred ways to say 'i love you' [48]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1533164
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26





	“i’ll do it for you.”

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Give_Me_A_Karking_KitKat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Give_Me_A_Karking_KitKat/gifts).



“Auntie Daisy! Auntie Daisy!”

With a whoop of laughter, I spin around and sweep up little Adira Arcady in my arms, scattering kisses all over her face until she in peals of laughter and squealing at me, “Auntie Daisy! Auntie Daisy!”

I kiss the corners of her eyes, which is where Hazel’s DNA really comes out on her young features: she has Alexander’s wide brow and hazel eyes and freckled nose and Alexander’s bowed pink lips, but Hazel’s round face and the Asian shape of her eyes.

“Hello, Adira my dear,” I sing out to her, swinging her around and jostling her up into my arms so she practically hangs from my neck. “What did Mummy and Daddy get you for Christmas?”

“Adira!” Hazel calls out, running into the hall in her plaid dress, white petticoats bustling as she flies around the corner. When she sees me, her face bursts into an enormous grin. “Oh, Daisy!” She rushes over to me and throws her arms around both me and the little girl in my arms. Her embrace is tight, warm, firm. Though she has grown, she is still small enough to duck her head into my shoulder with her hair brushing my neck.

“Merry Christmas, Hazel,” I tell her, sinking into her touch. “Enjoying your break?”

With a laugh, she says, “Indeed! I think that constantly seeing bodies in the holidays has rather dampened my Christmas spirit. At least the people of London had the decency to not get themselves murdered this holiday. Did you pick up that cold case that we can start in the new year?”

“I seem to remember you telling me when we were fourteen that you would not have a mystery over Christmas,” I tease, moving Adira into her arms with a final kiss on her forehead. “How you have changed, Watson!”

“How you have changed me, Daisy,” she replies with a laugh and a soft look cast my way.

Adira wriggles to get down and Hazel obliges her, saying, “Come on, Addi, let’s not abandon Daddy to of Uncle George’s wrath; Daisy, he’s teaching him how to make stuffing in a ‘normal way, you heathen’.” The last part is said in a fair approximation of George’s London accent that has been mangled by schoolboy diction.

With a chuckle, I say, “Ah, the Mukherjees have descended on the Arcady residence?”

“Well, one half of them; Harold and Bertie are arriving later,” she tells me, watching Adira run back into the kitchen in the little elf shoes that Bertie doubtless got her for Christmas (they have bells on the end, and I asked Bertie when he bought them if he was trying to make Hazel commit a murder-suicide with herself and Alexander as the participants out of sheer annoyance).

“I’m glad you’re here, Daisy,” Hazel says, tugging at my suit jacket in an effort to get me to take it off.

“Where else would I be, you chump?”

Chuckling, she moves a ruby red pair of Adira’s shoes out of where they were discarded in the centre of the hall, a prime tripping hazard for a blonde detective in high heels not paying attention. “You could be anywhere in the world; you’re Daisy Wells.”

“Yet I’m here,” I say, rolling my eyes. Why would I be anywhere else in the world when I could be by my best friend’s side? “I’m part of your family, Hazel, whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t think that Adira would be the daring mischief maker she is today without you being part of our family, so there is no chance of me not knowing that.”

“MUMMY!” Adira yells from the kitchen. “Uncle George and Daddy are making a mess!”

“Oh  _ Christ _ ,” Hazel mutters, racing into the kitchen. “Alex! George! Stop setting bad examples!”

Her annoyance has clearly evaporated into thin air by the time I reach the kitchen: she is wheezing with laughter while leaning against the doorframe, her hands pressed over her face as she tries to look disappointed.

George and Alexander are both showered with icing sugar, yet somehow the mince pies in front of them are not at all sprinkled with the powder. “How are you two such disasters?” I ask exasperatedly.

George brushes the icing sugar from his blue shirt and knitted Christmas jumper. “I’m going to go to the bathroom to get all this icing sugar out of my hair,” he says with a best friend’s smile cast to Alexander, who grins back. “If I’m not thorough, it’ll make me look like I’ve gone grey.”

“You do have grey hairs, Uncle George!” Adira says, causing us all to look down and notice that her fingers are sticky with a mince pie that she has swiped off of the counter. “You told me so!”

“Your daddy has grey hairs too from dealing with all your mischief,” he tells her with a laugh, brushing a hand back through his hair and walking into the bathroom.

Alexander is still quietly chuckling over the mince pies. With a fond smile, Hazel walks over and wraps her arms around him from behind. “ **I’ll do it for you** , love. Considering that you and George apparently turn into children when faced with any sort of cooking responsibility.”

He turns his head and plants a gentle kiss on her mouth. “If you insist, my love. I’ll help with the stuffing?”

“Go ahead, if I can trust you.” Loud and pleased, she laughs with her head thrown back and her mouth open wide, the sound loud and jolly.

Adira has run over to me. “Auntie Daisy, can I show you the presents that I got?”

“Of course, Addi,” I say, letting her tug on my hand to lead me into the living room. Lifting the paper bag in my hand, I wave it at her to show her that I have more gifts for her.

With a squeal, she says, “Thank you, Auntie Daisy!”

_ How well-mannered, _ I think with a smile.  _ I am certain that it’s Hazel’s work. _

“Wait until you see what I’ve got you to say thank you!”

Adira leads me over to one of their plush sofas and pushes me down, climbing up beside me. “Can I tell you a secret, Auntie Daisy?”

“Of course, Addie. You know that you can tell me anything, sweetheart,” I tell her, ruffling her hair while internally wondering what secrets a child could have.

She gets up on her knees and leans into my ear, cupping her hands around it. “I saw Mummy kissing Santa Claus.”

With a gasp as I play along, I say, “Adira, are you sure that’s what you saw?”

She nods, worried with her lower lip wobbling like a plate about to break. “I don’t think I was supposed to see. What if—” She gulps, and speaks in a whisper. “—what is Mummy doesn’t love Daddy anymore?”

I feel a gasp hitch in my throat. I can imagine Adira peering around the doorway to their lounge, hoping to catch a glimpse of the elusive Saint Nicholas only to find her mother kissing him senseless. All I can think of is Fallingford, peering out into the library through the gap in the curtains and seeing my mother kissing a strange man. How could Hazel be so careless and kiss a dressed-up Alexander, knowing that her daughter’s mischievous streak would turn her into a child eager to catch a glimpse of Santa Claus?

Picking her up and settling her in my lap, I lean down as if telling her a secret. “Oh, but Adira, don’t you know? Sometimes, Santa Claus is so very busy that he asks some daddies to help deliver the presents on their street to take the weight off of his shoulders! Of course, he makes the daddies helping wear Santa suits so little girls and boys like you don’t know his secret. Your Daddy got chosen this year because he is ever so lucky, and obviously Mummy wanted to give him a kiss while he was delivering your presents!”

“Really?” Her voice is a whisper.

“Really.”

“So Mummy and Daddy still love each other?”

“As much as mummies and daddies can, Adira, which is an awful lot,” I assure her. “Come on, let’s go and see.”

With Adira in my arms, I walk into the doorway of the kitchen and we watch for a moment. Hazel and Alexander have abandoned their cooking in favour of dancing with each other to, ironically,  _ I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus _ .

“See there, Addi?” I ask, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “They love each other very much.”

“Daisy?” Alexander says, and the two leap apart as if we are in Egypt again and I have just caught them kissing.

That reminds me: I ought to call Amina. She’s in Egypt for the holidays and I miss her awfully.

“Addi,” I tell Adira, setting her down and ruffling her dark hair. “Go and annoy Uncle George; check for grey hairs.”

With a giggle, she runs off and I face the embarrassed couple. When I am certain Adria is out of earshot, I shut the door and say, “You ought to be more careful. Thanks to you, I have had to tell your daughter — oh, what did I say? — that, ‘Sometimes, Santa Claus is so very busy that he asks some daddies to help deliver the presents on their street to take the weight off of his shoulders.’ All because she ‘saw Mummy kissing Santa Claus’ and was worried that you didn’t love each other anymore.”

The pair of them stare at me and I break out laughing. “Just tell her that she mustn’t tell other kids and that it’s a very exciting job to be given, Alexander.”

Hazel, with an enormous grin, says, “You are an angel, Daisy Wells.”

“I am but a devil in angel’s armour, Watson,” I reply, turning when I hear tiny fists pounding on the door. I open it and Adira rushes in, bolting over to Alexander and clinging to him.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” he asks her, hauling her up and running a hand through her hair. His American accent emerges strongly when he speaks to Adira, which is rather odd.

“I— hit— my— head!” she cries into his shoulder.

“Oh, darlin’, let me have a look.” He sets her down on the counter and examines her head, pretending to be astonished. “Wow! You’re very brave, Ads. Let me get some of the magic cream for you.”

A tip from Uncle Felix was ‘if you tell a child that something will heal them, it will heal them’. This was followed by him telling her to ‘exploit that Pavlo effect’ and the heavily-pregnant Hazel smacking him with a book. However, they have indeed ‘exploited that Pavlo effect’ and made up a bottle of white cream with a label on it that says ‘Magic Cream’ in beautiful loopy writing. Inside is essentially a bunch of Hazel’s face cream with some nice scents added to it, as well as some Olbas Oil to make it smell medical.

Alexander tips out a bit of ‘magic cream’ onto his hand and rubs it over Addie’s forehead.

It’s at this point that George comes rushing in. “Addi!” he asks her. “Are you alright, darling?”

With a furrowed brow, Alexander moves away with cream-covered fingers to let George kiss and coddle her. “What happened?” he asks.

“She was trying to climb up to be as tall as me and fell from the toilet,” he says while kissing Adira’s forehead. “I’m sorry, I should have been paying more attention.”

I note with amusement that his hair is still mildly white.

“You fucking idiot,” Alexander says, though there is no venom behind the words.

“Language!” Hazel and I scold at the same time, before looking at each other and bursting out laughing.

“I apologise,” he says warmly, before adding, “You’re turning into Felix. You know that, right?”

“ _ God forbid _ ,” I say, while Hazel laughs.

Adira is looking thoughtful, though nobody except George notices this until she pipes up with, “Fu… king…”

The four of us fall about laughing as Adira, injury forgotten, looks between us all with fascination, repeating her new word over and over.

“Merry Christmas, detectives,” Hazel says to us as the doorbell rings. The sound doubtless brings Bertie and Harold, proffering more gifts than strictly necessary and Adira’s favourite playmates: their dogs and their son. 

Hazel turns to me with sparkling eyes, and we do the Detective Society handshake.


End file.
